Three Simple Words
by susx
Summary: How many different ways can HG and GL say them?


This fic came into my head quickly last night, and I wanted to get it up before I changed my mind and deleted it. It's a one-shot type deal. I was just wondering how HG and GL should finally say the "three little words." Here's my take on how they COULD—any number of ways.

Warning: fluffiness abounds.

***

"Dude, those are some hot gypsies," Flash muttered, almost to himself.

Flash and Green Lantern were in John's quarters, Flash watching with interest the flat screen television John had mounted on the wall, and John, sitting as his desk in the corner, clacking loudly on his keyboard, trying to get some paperwork done.

Green Lantern frowned and looked up from his report to eyeball Flash. "What was that?"

Flash reddened under John's scrutiny. "Forget I said anything."

John's gaze was inexorably drawn up to the TV—his TV—which Flash was watching his film on.

"What the hell are you watching anyway?"

A single, drawn-out moan broke the now deafening silence.

John looked appalled. "Porn? You came over here to watch _porn_? While I'm trying to work? Don't you know I have to get this report done for Superman? Don't have have any respect? It's so—" John broke off, suddenly unable to tear his eyes away from the TV screen.

"Damn, those gypsies _are_ hot."

Flash smirked. "I told you so."

"What—who?" John babbled, unable to take his eyes of the screen.

__

Oh baby, tell me my future…

Flash consulted the back of the box. "It's called _Nadja Does Bucharest_. Nadja's just met up with the evil gypsies."

John came from behind his desk, slowly, and sat down on the opposite side of the couch.

"Holy shit, I wish I met someone who could—"

"Whoa, whoa, there, John. Too much information."

John watched, rapt in silence for a few minutes, then asked, "What makes the gypsies evil?"

Flash frowned. "I dunno, except maybe the fact that they're all women."

"God bless the evil gypsies."

A few moments later, when Nadja had just made a few more friends with the evil gypsies, a knock came on the door.

"Flash, would you get that?" John mumbled, still staring at the screen.

Flash opened the door with a grin, figuring it was Superman, come to give John some last instructions. Nadja would undoubtedly divert him, and get Supes off his buddy's back.

Instead, it was Hawkgirl. _Oh shit_, Flash thought.

"Hey, Flash, where's John? He was supposed to meet me to work out fifteen minutes ago."

Flash mustered a very weak looking grin. "Uh… I don't know, Hawkgirl. He's not here right now. He said something about grabbing some chow…"

She peered around him, into the darkened room. "Then who's that I see sitting on the couch? What the hell are you trying to pull, Flash?"

He laughed, nervously. "That's right. I completely forgot. John just came back five minutes ago." He projected his voice louder, to be heard over the television. "That's right, John. It's _Hawkgirl_ here for your _workout._ You might want to turn off the _news_ you're watching and get ready."

Hawkgirl stared at him as if he had just grown two heads. "Just let me in."

"I don't know if that's—"

She pushed past him as if he wasn't there, then stopped short when she realized what they were watching.

"Oh, very edifying," Hawkgirl said dryly to Flash. "And which news is this? The news of the weird or the news of the sexually deviant?"

Flash shrugged. "C'mon. It's not that bad."

Hawkgirl stared, fascinated in spite of herself. "Besides being anatomically impossible…"

John had remained blissfully unaware throughout this entire conversation.

Hawkgirl shook her head in mock disgust. "I can't believe you two."

She turned to John. "John, come on. We're scheduled to work out, remember? You just designed that program where we fight Sinestro. I want to try it out. Get dressed."

"Mmm-hmm," John said.

Hawkgirl sighed. "John, let's go. You can watch this later."

"Yep."

Hawkgirl let an exasperated tone creep into her voice. "John, we only have the training room for another 45 minutes."

"Really?"

Hawkgirl exchanged glances with Flash, who sought to excuse his friend. "Hey, it's the first time he's seen Nadja in action. You can't blame him." 

She rolled her eyes, and tried to gain his attention. "John, the invaders have landed again, and they're trying to take over the Earth. We need your help, or Earth is lost."

"Is that so?"

She tried again. "John, the Green Lantern Corps just called. By a vote of 2-1, you've just been kicked out."

"Hmmm…"

She made a last attempt. "John, Diana and I love you, and we want to have a threesome with you tonight."

"Really? That's nice…"

She threw up her hands, fed up. "That's it! Men! I guess I'll just work out by myself today!"

Flash saw her to the door, ruefully apologizing. "Don't mind him. He's just distracted by—"

*

"—you sitting across from me. I could barely keep my hands off of you."

She laughed as they stumbled through his door. "Surely that's an exaggeration. I mean, Superman's meeting on the new safety procedures was _very _absorbing."

"Oh yes," he agreed, taking her mask off and kissing her full on the lips. "Which was the most interesting?" Imitating Superman—badly—he mimicked, "Was it when he said 'Always call for backup,' or when he told us, 'Your true strength lies in numbers and working together?' What a boy scout." He snorted.

She grinned mischievously, tugging his shirt upward. " I don't know. I like the work together part."

"Well," he solemnly said, trailing kisses across the exposed area of her shoulder, "I guess I can't disagree with that."

She laughed, her face hidden against the broad expanse of his chest, her hot breath tickling him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him. "I don't know how long we're going to be able to keep this a secret."

"Who cares?" he asked, reaching around to undo the zipper of her uniform, sliding her yellow top to the floor.

She waged an internal battle as his lips—_Oh God, do that again_—

But if she didn't talk to him now, when else would she get a chance? They were always busy, and the time they could spend alone was always too short. She had to speak with him, get this out of the way before their relationship went any further. 

With a small sigh, she grasped his shoulders, pushing him away.

John frowned, looking put out, but to his credit only asked, "All right, Shy, I'll bite. What's up?"

Nervous now that she actually had to come to the point, she avoided his eyes and looked at the floor. She wasn't very good at talking. She was never more in her element than when she could act first, and ask questions later. Much later.

"John, you know, Superman's meeting…" she said, trying to find the right words.

"Yes…" he said, struggling against his impatience.

"Well, he was right in a way. We need to work together as a team, but…I don't know. What if you're in danger? What if this thing between us doesn't work? What if the other members of the Justice League find out? Will we be able to work as a team then?"

There. She had said it. All the things that had been worrying her.

John looked at her, slightly amused. "I see. So you're worried about us because of what-ifs and might-bes?"

Put like that, her fears did seem a bit ridiculous. "Yeah…I guess so. Kind of silly, huh?"

"Well…I can't say sometimes I don't worry either. But there's no sense in borrowing trouble. Besides…" he grinned., "it's not like the woman I love to want to stand around talking when we could be doing something else."

Insanely, absurdly, her heart soared at his phrase. You'd think she was a girl of fourteen. But it had been a long time since someone had told her he loved her, even obliquely, when she had felt the same in return.

"I see," she deadpanned. "And just what did you have in mind? Going over the Watchtower's new security system? Looking at the Javelin's blueprints to see how we could make it faster or more efficient? Developing a contingency plan—"

He cut her off, pulling her close once more. "Fascinating, but I think I might have had something else in mind."

"Oh, _that_," she said, pretending to ponder. "Well, I suppose—"

"Shut up, Shayera."

She smiled. "Only if you—"

*

"—make me. I won't tell you anything," she said, defiantly.

John hesitated.

Shayera laughed derisively. "That's the problem with you _Justice Leaguers_," she sneered. "Only prepared to color in the lines, to play the game by the rules. Even now, with your world at risk, you're only going to politely ask me questions. You humans are pathetic."

"So Thanagar is different?" John asked. _Anything to keep her talking._

She snorted. "Of course it is. As different as night is from day. On Thanagar, this human… _weakness_ isn't tolerated."

"That's very interesting," he said. "But I happen not to think of myself as weak."

Her eyes raked him. "Well…maybe you're not," she conceded, ungraciously. "But on Thanagar, most humans wouldn't last a day."

"How so?"

She answered his question indirectly. "On Thanagar, every adolescent, at the age of fifteen, has to go through a trial. Fifty percent of those who attempt it fail."

"Fail?" he faltered.

"Is that too much of a euphemism for you? They die, John," she said, smiling in amusement at the horror on his face. "That way, Thanagarian society is left with only the strong. There is no weakness in Thanagar, like there is on Earth. Everyone on Thanagar is capable of pulling his own weight. There's no poverty, no hunger, no disease. If a Thanagarian ever becomes unproductive, he commits suicide, for the good of the state."

"That sounds horrible," he said, in spite of himself. Then a thought struck him. "Those scars—"

"Yes, John, those scars on my back. I had a harder trial than most. It made me strong in the service of the state," she said, proudly.

He gasped, horrified, couldn't help himself. "Your own people did that to you?" 

He remembered looking at her back the first time they had made love. It had been a mess—a welter of fine, thin, white lines, scars of wounds that had healed well, and ugly, jagged, pinkish raised ridges , scars of wounds that had looked like they'd been infected. There wasn't a patch of skin left that hadn't borne the impression of suffering in some form. He had seen men in battle, seen ghastly wounds, but scarcely anything like that.

He had asked, but she had said she hadn't wanted to talk about it. He respected that, had had his own wounds and war stories that he didn't feel comfortable talking about. But this hadn't been an enemy that had done that to her, but her own people. He suppressed a shudder.

"Yes, Thanagar did that to me. But they had to. I had talent, had the potential to be one of the best operatives they had. But being a spy isn't a job for the faint of heart."

She walked around the room, musing. "We have a saying on Thanagar, John. 'Pain is weakness leaving the body.' That's why we do what we do. And the memory of that pain gives me the courage to do what has to be done." She laughed, harshly. "I've already provided the intelligence to allow Thanagar to conquer two worlds. Earth will be the third."

He was filled with revulsion. "And to think that I lov—" he broke off, before he could reveal any more.

She smiled, mockingly. "I know you did. It made my job easier."

He felt sick.

"If that's all," she said, "I think I'll go—"

*

"NOW!" she screamed. "While you still have a chance!"

He hesitated.

"Go, you idiot! I can't hold them off for much longer, and your ring is almost out. You need to go, now, before it's too late!"

Her mace took off the head of another one of Darkseid's minions, spraying a trail of crimson across her face that joined with the trickle of blood coming from the gash on her forehead.

The brief lull in the battle—their enemies seemed to be regrouping for another advance—allowed her to turn around and stare at him. She looked awful—her broken wing listing drunkenly behind her, her face dirty, her uniform torn, her free hand pressed to her side, where John had no doubt some of her ribs had been broken when she had been hit by that flying chunk of wood kicked up by the mortars.

"John, I'll kill you myself if you don't get out of here. Someone needs to go to Earth, get help. With the Javelin damaged, that person has to be you."

He stared at her, disbelieving—_No, it couldn't end like this._ He had seen friends killed in battle, more than he cared to remember, but he somehow had thought it could never happen to her. That he had all the time in the world to tell her how he felt.

She sighed, then mustered a lop-sided grin. "I'll get away, hide, until you bring the Justice League in. That is, if I haven't already killed Darkseid by myself," she said, attempting to sound confident.

It was a lie, though, and they both knew it. She would be dead when he got back. But she was lying to make it easier for him. And she was right. He had to go. 

But he hesitated again. He couldn't leave her behind, couldn't just go, not when she would certainly die, horribly, or even worse—he didn't want to think about that. He had heard the whispered stories about what Darkseid had done to some of his prisoners.

She leaned forward, kissed him—roughly, passionately. "I wanted to do that for awhile. Never thought I'd do it here, though," she said, with a wry smile. "Too bad things couldn't have been—"

She backed away quickly, as she heard an explosion behind them. She looked over her shoulder, and grimaced. "Shit, they're coming again."

She looked into his eyes once more, for the final time. "Don't worry, okay?" She weighed the confession she was about to make, decided to tell him. "I love you, John." She looked as though she was about to say something else, before another explosion sounded, nearer this time. "Now go!"

She turned away, charging forward as best as she could, meeting the numberless enemy, seeking to distract them, giving him time to escape.

He closed his eyes and said a short prayer as he sealed himself in the green energy sphere that would take him back to Earth.

He saw her, just as he was almost out of sight, surrounded, but still valiantly struggling, clearing a circle for herself, her mace moving faster than he could countenance.

"Good-bye, Shayera. I'll—

*

"—miss you," she whispered, feeling the traitorous sting of tears prick her eyes as she watched John and Katma take off for Oa, and their honeymoon.

She and Diana were standing by themselves, away from the other members of the Justice League, as they stood outside the imposing edifice that was St. Mark's, on what, despite some early rain, was proving to be a lovely spring day.

She thought she had spoken too softly for anyone to hear, but Diana, standing behind her, responded.

"She'll be good for him," she said. "Challenge him, love him."

Shayera ignored that bit of unpleasant truth. "I hadn't thought John would have wanted to get married in a church. Doesn't really seem like him."

Diana shrugged. "I think there was a lot we didn't know about John, a lot he didn't want us to know."

Shayera watched in silence as their respective energy spheres brought them higher and higher—away from the Justice League—away from _her_. 

"I wish I could hate Katma," Shayera said, changing the subject again. "But I can't. You're right. She _is _what he needs."

Diana shrugged again. "I don't know about that. But it's what he had to settle for."

Shayera winced. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." 

Shayera, about to protest, was overridden as Diana continued on, inexorably, anger tingeing her voice. This was obviously something she had wanted to say for a long time. 

"What did you expect him to do?" she said accusingly. "Wait forever? He made it clear how he felt. And you just kept on flirting with him, teasing him. Actually, he stuck around for longer than any reasonable person should. What did you think? You could keep leading him on, wake up one day, crook your finger, and he'd come running?"

"It wasn't like that," Shayera said defensively, stung to the quick by Diana's comment that had contained rather too much of the truth to be entirely palatable. She _had _acted outrageously at times. "It was just…I wasn't really sure how I felt about him. Besides, I still had Katar—"

Diana looked around incredulously, making a show out of it. "Who somehow, is still on Thanagar, and likely to remain there for the rest of your life! And believe it or not, in the meantime, you're still stuck here."

"Oh God, Diana," she whispered, stricken. "I've made such a mistake."

Diana, realizing she had gone too far, reached out to embrace the smaller, red-headed woman. "Oh Shy, I'm so sorry. It's my fault too. I let you alone, didn't say anything, kept thinking you'd understand, you'd realize…"

Diana held her as she broke down and wept.

Some minutes later, over the tall Amazon's shoulders, she spotted the last speck of green against the sky, the last glimpse she was likely to get of John.

"John," she whispered. "I _do_ love you. Please—I'm sorry."

But it was too late, and the speck faded from view until—

*

She could no longer see him very well. Old age had attacked her eyesight first, and in spite of advanced technology, lens, optics, surgeries—she had tried them all—her vision consisted mainly of vague shapes and colors. But she still knew it was him, would still know it when she went blind, eventually, in a few years.

He came over to sit beside her on the couch, tucking the blanket in firmly around her legs, then grasping her hand, old and emaciated, in his own, which was no longer young, but more protected than hers from the ravages of age, due to the rejuvenative power of the ring he had worn for so many years.

She sighed, and leaned closer to him. It had been a bad day. The pain in her joints had made her cry out, her new medication becoming as obsolete as the last, and little better than nothing at all. Still, when John was around, she tried to spare him the worst. He worried too much.

"John," she whispered, her voice thin and weak. "Have I ever told you that I loved you?"

"Yes," he said. "And I love you too. Now don't talk. Rest."

She let her eyes close gently, and fell asleep, his arms around her.


End file.
